


more than that.

by zoiinks



Category: Markiplier (RPF), Markiplier (YouTube), mark fishbach - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Markiplier - Freeform, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, YouTuber!Reader, Youtuber - Freeform, reader - Freeform, youtuber reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 05:42:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4654500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoiinks/pseuds/zoiinks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You didn't know what you were doing with this YouTube thing, but it seemed to be working out for you. So long as no one else works out you're confused, right? Right. (Youtuber!Reader x Markiplier)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. change.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were going to do this YouTube thing, even if it killed you -- which it wouldn't, but that's not the point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first thing I'm posting here, so I hope you enjoy. I have invented a YouTube name for you, but feel free to disregard it and impose your own. Your name is, as always, [Y/N]. I tend to avoid it as a rule. Please feel free to let me know what you think, and all kudos and views are appreciated!

“Hey guys. I’m, um, I’m LunaLoops… That’s not my actual name, but um, well, it is but...” You watched the lights on your webcam, blinking expectantly at you. You had not planned an intro, and you didn’t even know if you needed one. Could you just make it up as you went, or was it better to have a script? Or was it a better idea to let things be natural, and flow, or --

Try to focus past the blinky light. Or on it. Or neither.

“LunaLoops… That’s, well, you uh, you have my um, username. My actual name is… Ugh.” You couldn’t do it. A rough sigh of defeat rose from you. “No. No, no, no, I can… I can do better than that.” 

You killed the capture, only to bury your face in your hands. This was not supposed to be scary. This was supposed to be an easy way to relax after work. You wanted to vlog, to put out some videos of game playthroughs, maybe a skit or two… Really, it was up to you what you put on your channel. But you wanted a vlog, as early as possible, because you hoped that some time in the future you could laugh about it.

For the moment, it felt nerve wracking. You had been using the Internet for as long as you could remember. You had grown up watching stupid flash videos, playing those doll dressup games, and even participating on forums. You had consumed, and put a little out for each fandom, but you had never thought of yourself as a creator. Not on a large scale, not like this. You had watched more YouTubers than you could list, but a few had really pushed you recently.

But the motivation to put out videos came from you, wholly from your core, from the urge to put out content for people like you. You felt insecure, you felt unsure, you didn’t know what you were doing with your life, but you wanted to be there for those who needed it. You wanted to watch people grow and develop and learn, and you wanted to help them skip all the awkward steps you had suffered through. Whether they learned from you, or just laughed at you, that was what made you start the recording again.

Your nerves felt steadier, and your voice didn’t waver. You committed to a smile, a flick of a wave, and a nod. “Hey-oh everybody, I’m LunaLoops. I’m here to make you laugh with me, not at me… But hey, all for comedy, right?”

…

That had been two years ago.

You proceeded to upload two videos a week, with a total of ten views per video. You would do vlogs when they were needed, but they were lucky to hit ten themselves. It was slow goings, you loathed to admit, but that didn’t stop you. You enjoyed the process of recording and editing videos, once you got used to the camera. It turned out to be more natural for you than you had expected. You kept it from your friends and family, as it wasn’t a serious hobby for you. it was stress relief, a refuge from your otherwise patterned life. You woke up, ate breakfast, went to work, came home, played games, watched YouTube and slept. Now, with the videos, you felt like you were doing something.

Even if that something was entertaining a small handful of people. It felt good, to see a comment, a new subscriber, a like, or even a share. God. You always got the stupidest smile on your face when someone saw fit to share your videos on Tumblr. And then tens of views slowly became dozens, and dozens became hundreds, and you didn’t quite know how to react when you finally hit a thousand subscribers. It had taken you a year, and a few collaborations. You had made friends, at least, but you couldn’t explain it. The numbers kept accruing, and you kept making content.

Then twenty thousand. Then five hundred thousand…

And then you were smothered, darkness, pressure, the force of all these eyes watching, waiting, judging, the stifling heat, the unwelcome silence, the doubt, the numbness, the lingering question of what you would do next, or what you were worth. It bogged you down, not disappearing even as you grew as a channel. Even now, huffling snoozing, you found your stomach twisting uncomfortably at the prospect of what that many people meant.

Foggy darkness welcomed you into the world, blissful warmth wrapped around you. Your blanket had stayed on for once, despite your thrashing. There was a dream sitting at the tips of your fingers, something had happened, but you couldn’t recall what exactly. All you could remember was your first video, and the descent into further videos, more effort more time, more…

More what?

Something good. You felt warm tingles through your legs, arms, everywhere. Normally, you were awful at waking up, and you loathed the alarm that dragged you from your dream. Today seemed to be a strange exception, even as your dreams morphed between dark and light, excitement mixed with responsibility. You wanted nothing more than to lay there for a week straight to get your mind together, and then think about where your life was heading. Not now, half groggy, fearful and excited to hear back from the realtors in LA.

As your alarm squawked, you groaned again. You had things to do. Nothing exciting or radically different, but being an adult often meant day in, day out, same, same, same. You thrashed your way out of bed, clicks and cracks escorting you from your bed. Your alarm kept its chipper tune till you clumsily slid your thumb across it. 

Once.

Twice. 

Okay, alarm, shut up.

Finally it stopped. You could check Twitter and all those social media things once you had tidied your hair and brushed your teeth. Y’know, the human things you needed to do to feel less gross about yourself and your life. All you could do was blearily stare at yourself in the mirror.

Soon. Maybe today. It had been a few weeks since you had sent that application in. With the four letters of recommendation, from previous bosses, a tutor from college, and a few others from people in the industry you’d met through conventions, it had to happen. Soon. Really, you were relying on that email, to let you know if you’d gotten it.

It being the little one bedroom apartment with the amazing view of the LA skyline. It looked too good to be true,though the price matched. You could afford it, but you would need to eat nothing but ramen. It would be worth it to be closer to your fellow content creators,and a step closer to the life you wanted to lead.

There was only so much you could achieve without risking your comfort. You turned on your computer so it would boot up while you cleared space for your cereal. Once it turned on, you logged in and set a video running in the background. Nothing special, just something by the Rooster Teeth guys -- the million dollar question thing they had started doing. YouTube was your go-to for videos, and you rarely watched TV nowadays. You hadn’t even noticed the transition, but it had definitely happened. Sure, you had Netflix, but something about nerds playing video games was more entertaining.

You then scrolled through your emails, with not a single one showing from the realtor. Damn. Maybe later today, or tomorrow... Maybe. You had gotten a glowing recommendation letter from your current landlord, about how prompt you were with rent and how clean you kept your apartment. Aside from the occasional noise complaint, you were a great renter.

Whatever the word was. 

Tenant? It was too early for vocabulary words, even if they were on the tip of your tongue.

Brain.

Your brow furrowed as you pushed forward, trying to groggily piece together your plans for the day. You had to contact your old work about your final paycheck, as well as keep looking for apartments, and finalize your going away plans. You kept scrolling, disheartened by the lack of response. You were taking a huge risk, moving to Los Angeles without securing an apartment first. It was all because you had decided that if and when you got lucky with the green card lottery, you would move. It just happened to be sooner than you expected.

Unlike the email you were still waiting for. You shoveled the cereal into your mouth, eyes unfocused on the titles of the emails.

There were some junk messages, offers and value deals you would never open, and then there were the business emails. There was one from a convention you were set to attend, with some freebie game codes (with admittedly desperate pleas for you to play their games) then one that was from (someone claiming to be) Mark Fishbach. You narrowed your eyes skeptically at it, not fooled for a second. This was nothing new. You’d had messages sent to you by people pretending to be a Game Grump or an Achievement Hunter, They always promised big opportunities or swag, all you had to do was send your address.

Sometimes it gave you a laugh, how they tried so hard to be convincing. It was either a fan, or a stalker, or both.

“Let’s see what they want.” You skimmed through the email. A few words stuck out, between collaboration, a visit, something about a panel at a convention. It was all buzz words, nothing of substance. "Oh, sure, totally, I would love to do a panel with Markiplier." Although you whispered it sarcastically, you would have. That is, if it were a genuine email. As it stood, it was very convincing, but unless you heard it directly from Mark himself, you would chalk it up to wishful thinking. You tried to ignore the hopeful pang in your gut, given that you knew PAX Prime was approaching.

As it was, you could not picture Markiplier of all people emailing you about a panel, even if you had reached half a million subscribers. That was a twentieth of the size of his audience. You did not register in the grand scheme of YouTube. Sure, it wasn’t anything to scoff at, and you were immensely proud of (and surprised by) the number, but it felt weird to think about how you used to watch the people who could be considered equals. Not that you saw it that way, equal versus unequal.

The word very idea made your nose crinkle. It wasn’t a superiority thing, and it never had been. The truth was, you had seen people making videos, some stupid, some sad, some funny, and you had thought it looked like fun. You had invested in a ten dollar webcam and cheap mic, and started recording a few sessions of Terraria. You had picked it because you didn’t care how it went, and knew your way around. You didn’t expect to be a big hit, and you weren’t. It took you a year before you hit even a thousand subscribers, but from there the numbers ballooned.

It was a trickle rather than a flood. People could not understand the amount of work you put into your channel,tangible and otherwise. You would make all the thumbnails, edit, re-edit, suffer through tagging, reply to comments, information, annotations, check Twitter and tumblr and Twitch and then rotate back to YouTube with some Instagram on the side. It was a persistent cycle. You could not think of all the time you'd wasted by refreshing hopelessly, waiting for a new subscriber or follower. You had grown to love it, in it's slow, sad way. For now, you knew you had to push forward. It was time to let your fans in on your plans, and by extension, begin the next part of your life. No more waiting. No more postponing. This was it.

As soon as that damn realtor let you know --

Ding.

You thumbed the screen of your phone, your lips turning up in a goofy smile. "Ooh."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a slow burn story, so it may be slow going. I am trying to establish the Reader character with a life and general environment before pushing her into the wide world of Markiplier, so please bear with me.


	2. discourse.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are collaborations and then there are _collaborations_.

“Hey everyone, it’s LunaLoops -- and boy, do I have some big news. Good news! Just, big.” YOu grinned dumbly at the camera at your own misworded description. “Let me back up a bit. As most of you probably know, I've been wanting to move to Los Angeles since... Mh. Forever. And uh, it's happening. Really. I got the okay from the realtor, and I got my VISA sorted out. It's only for a year, but I can renew it. I don't wanna go into details because it's not the important part." You tried to play down your smile, but you knew you were failing.

"This may mean a tiny hiatus while I get my stuff packed and I fly over there, but nothing major. I'll still be posting daily, vlogs and I have a few challenge videos I recorded with MissCourse."

You paused to breathe, fingers nervously threading through your hair. "I am also going to PAX Prime. That's next week! God, that’s soon. Then, uh, next month, September, that's when I move." You puffed a breath. "I did not plan this very well, did I. But hey, PAX is going to be like a little beginner's go at America. Right?"

The video wasn't as hard as you thought it would be. There was a lot of emotion behind your words, but that was to be expected. You were announcing a move to a whole new place, and that meant so much for your fans. They stood a better chance of meeting you, and you would be able to attend more conventions. You should think more about yourself, sure, but the move was made possible thanks to them.

“With all that out of the way, we can get to the usual stuff. The less life changing stuff.” 

Your vlog continued with some housekeeping, as well as comment reading. It was a segment where you would read out funny or mean comments to react to. It made the vlog feel more involved. People were always excited to see their usernames read out.

It was why you worked through Twitch and YouTube. Twitch had immediacy to the interactions. YouTube allowed you to organize your thoughts, and to crop out the mumbling and worries.

You switched off the recording, forming into a pile of jelly. You were scared. You wanted to be excited, but the niggling doubt in your brain wouldn't let up. You popped open the vlog to quickly edit, putting in your outro and a touch of light music. A few images were superimposed, and you added the comments you had read out.

"Why does anyone watch your videos?"

You didn't know if that was trying to be mean, but it had failed. You asked yourself the same question daily. Someone people enjoyed you, your sense of humor, your sense of style... something. You just appreciated the support.

The funny comment was an incredibly deep joke about pasta and a hamster that only amused people who had watched your Spore playthrough. You didn’t like bragging about in-jokes and always felt awkward when people didn’t get them, but the viewers enjoyed it. It was like a shared joke between you, and helped them feel closer to you.

You missed when you could easily speak with every single person that watched you. You didn’t know when that had stopped, but you missed the excited messages, the gracious thank yous, and the discussions about which games were best. You couldn’t feasibly do that anymore, not without sitting day in, day out, checking your phone constantly.

“Okay Premiere, off you go.”

Once it was rendering, you left your computer. No sense in tempting the gods of Adobe. You did not want to risk corrupting the files. Instead, you took to your kitchen. You had dishes and then laundry, and you wryly wished that being a YouTuber was as glamorous as people made it out to be.

Most of it was you sitting in your underwear, editing videos and laughing and other YouTube videos. You took to the sink, ruefully wishing you were wasteful enough to use paper plates and plastic forks. You had propped up your phone against a glass, with the latest Markiplier video playing. You were thankful no one could see or hear you laughing your ass off at him. His HuniePop videos were funny, okay. People tended to know him for his Five Nights playthroughs, but you had stopped watching them a while ago.

The HuniePop videos though, well, they were a different story entirely.

You thought briefly about that email, the one that claimed to be from Mark. You’d get to see him at PAX (the second time you would meet him, after PAX the previous year). You couldn’t ask him about it, and you couldn’t reply. Unless you just sent a message back, calling the phoney out.

But what if it wasn’t fake...

You shook your head, refocusing on the dishes you were ignoring. It could wait.

....

You had given the notice to your landlord, you had ceased your bills, you had resigned from your part time job (that was becoming less relevant with each passing month as a YouTuber. After a back and forth email session with your new landlord, you had a date. You could move in as of the twentieth of September. To allow for your things to arrive, you were aiming for the twenty seventh of September.

There was nothing special about this final date to you. It was the day after your old lease ended and the week after your new lease began. It made your stomach flip at the thought, the very idea you were doing this. Finally. No more ifs, or buts, it was happening. 

You had never moved more than a fifteen minute drive away from home, and now you were hours away from any family. You had always wanted to change your scene and focus more on your content creation, and the move had been the best idea. It meant you could be closer to other creators, and it also meant you could cut ties with all the lacklustre attachments that kept you weighted down. You were leaving behind a dull job and a host of friends whose stories were a nasty cocktail of malicious and bland. You would miss a few of your friends, but you knew in your heart that you needed to live for yourself, not for them.

Life here had long since lost its edge, and you never felt like going out. You just wanted to stay home and work on your channel, or stream with online friends (who quickly became your actual friends). You wanted to be closer to them, and you wanted to reinvigorate your passion for life.

Not that life needed a spark or a flourish to keep it interesting for you. You were happy to relax in the known elements, of your familiar bedroom with your familiar life… But there was something to be said for comfort born out of laziness, for familiarity that cut you away from opportunities. You felt that too much waiting had made you lazy, complacent, and vague. You needed clear cut goals to keep progressing through life, and the move was a symbolic shift for you. It made you feel better, moving away from the funk of too many years spent saying you will do this, and you will do that.

The deadline had made you follow through, though It didn’t make it any less stressful.

PAX was approaching, with only two days before you flew out. You hadn’t packed. You hadn’t even processed your VISA waiver, unsure if you needed it, given you had a greencard for the next month… So many questions, so few online resources. You would have to call the embassy later that day to confirm. But you should be okay -- totally okay. You were not stressed out. Not at all.

“Collab, y/y?”

You raised an eyebrow at your phone, seeing the name Alexandra on the screen. Alex hated her full name, preferring to be called ‘A’ or ‘Alex’, but you kept her name as ‘Alexandra’ to bug her. Her online handle was MissCourse, which was a pun about discourse, according to Alex. It was a stretch, but it served her well.

You were going to be flying over with Alex, too, seeing as you lived pretty close to one another. You had met at the PAX the previous year, where she had recognized you as LunaLoops. Similar to how you’d started calling her Alex instead of MissCourse, you had asked her to call you by your real name, as people always assumed your name was Luna. It wasn’t. It was a boring old name, but it was your name.

“just have to do some packing first :D”

“Still not packed?”

“??? obviously not???” You pulled a face at your phone. “don’t judge me”

“Why do you text like a child.”

You glared at your phone, tossing it onto your bed. Alex would probably get the message; you were packing, and you would collaborate when you were done. You had been playing Don’t Starve Together, and the server was on your computer. You had most of your videos done for the time you’d be at PAX, but there was room for more content. It was always a good idea to have just a few in the reserves, in case real life stuff picked up.

Such as moving internationally for an online career.

You reminded yourself to breathe, feeling ill at the responsibility. You sincerely hoped that you were able to enjoy PAX, in spite of the pressure you were putting on yourself not to mess up this move. It was a huge deal. If things didn’t work out with YouTube, you could always work as a barista, or a nanny, or… Or something. But you just hoped that the world didn’t crash around you.

You were just starting to feel steady with the world of YouTube.

As you picked through your clothes, you tried to plan outfits. A skirt, a dressy shirt, a few belts, jeans, all the clothes you had most recently purchased. There were a few TeeFury shirts with nerdy designs, and a Game Grumps shirt you’d bought last year. You tossed a dress on top, one that was black and had little cut shoulders, just in case you had to go somewhere a little nicer.

Did that count as being packed?

You squinted dubiously at your bag.

You could always add more things later. Toiletries, a sketchbook, a few books to read, that kind of stuff could be added to your carryon luggage. You flipped off the case to let out some frustration. You should be happy, excited, but you felt so worried. You wished you could just… Just know things were going to work out. But what if you posted about a fan meetup, and no one came? What if no one recognized you? Did it even matter? You didn’t want to assume people cared about you, but you also didn’t want to dismiss fans if they approached you.

It was an awful balancing act of trying to remain modest and understanding, but respectful, and all you wanted to do was to have fun. It just sucked at you couldn’t shut your brain off.

You opened up your phone to tweet out a photo of your (messily) packed bag, with a caption about how disorganized you were. Once it was sent out, there was a dozen favs and a few replies with people offering to help you pack, and a new follower. You smiled at your phone absently, making your way to your computer.

You scrolled through your timeline to see what else was being tweeted about. Mostly it was people talking about their excitement for PAX, and a few streamer friends announcing they were live. You saw MissCourse complaining about you, which you retweeted with a comment about how demanding she was.

Then there was a tweet by Markiplier, mentioning his big plans for a creator meetup at PAX -- and that people should expect emails. There was him, thumbs up, smiling brightly, with a big list of names. 

Your chest hurt.

What.

Wait.

What?

You tapped reply without thinking. “@markiplier I got an email from someone about a panel, so that was from you?”

You ignored the fact your hands were shaking. You waited a minute, then two, then ten. You had set up your recording software and opened up Don’t Starve Together, checking your phone periodically. You felt your stomach begin to sink, given there was no response from Mark. It made sense. He was very popular, and very busy, and he probably hadn’t even seen your reply.

Despite how sick you felt, you just nodded weakly, trying to pep yourself up for the recording session with Alex. It reaffirmed what you suspected. The email had been a fake, and Mark was too much of a sweetheart to tell you as much. Maybe even just an apology would be nice, but he didn’t owe you that.

You opened up TeamSpeak, trying so hard to smile. “Alex, you here?”

“Yeah, hey.” Her voice was deeper than yours, more mature. You always felt like a kid compared to her, even though you were older than her. You wondered if you should mention the Markiplier thing, but decided it would only make you feel worse. Or make you seem stupid, believing a spam email.

The defeatist attitude began to gnaw at your nerves, so you tried to force yourself past it. You had never started this YouTube career (if you could call it that) for anyone else. Not in the sense that you needed people like Mark to notice you.

But it would have been nice.

“Do we wanna just start now, or what?”

“I’ve been waiting for you, so get the server going.” You could hear Alex’s smile through her voice.

You focused on the recording, trying to be chipper and bright, trying to disguise how utterly disappointed you were in yourself, and your expectations that Markiplier would have invited you to do anything with him.

It wasn’t until you signed off your video and said goodbye to Alex that you checked your phone. There were a bunch of favs and follows. You flicked open Twitter, eyes widening.

There was a direct message from Markiplier.

_What?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the support thus far! For the kudos, the comments, the subscriptions... I do hope I don't disappoint. I have a lot planned for this. But as said, I am trying to take this slowly and show the full experience of being a YouTuber, rather than a whirlwind of highlights. Let me know if it's TOO slow or too fast. Also I am trying to be as legitimate as possible with the reality of moving from one country to another, but I do not know the full details. I just know it's really hard.


	3. pixels.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are a perfectly rational adult.

Alex had noticed how distracted you had been during your recording, but she hadn’t pushed. You had said you’d talk to her later about it, and you would, really. The most important thing was that you needed to focus on this business-slash-personal engagement with Markiplier, because you swear you saw a tweet from him…  
  
Somewhere.  
  
You scrolled through dozens of favorites, all on a tweet you hadn’t even made. A few were mentions, there was a piece of fanart (that you retweeted) and a #wcw post about how pretty you were. You would never get over those tweets.  
  
After some scrolling and sleuthing, you saw what all the commotion was about. There was a reply from Mark. You thumbed the tweet open, eyes widening.  
  
“@lunaloops Check the DM I sent you m’lady. ;)”  
  
Was that a winky face.  
  
Excuse me.  
  
A gargled scream sounded from your headphones, which snapped you out of your trance. It was when a tall bird had attacked you, and you’d died. It was then you looked at the video playing on your computer, which you had queued up. You always watched back over your sessions with MissCourse, to make sure it was useable.  
  
Right now, you couldn’t focus on the video, or the tweet. You couldn’t focus on anything, given the circumstances.  
  
Given the damn winky face from Marki- _freakin’_ -plier.  
  
You must have been imagining that cartoony face, surrounded by red. But there it was, sitting next to the little blue circle with the tick in the middle. Or maybe it was a very good fake… But the official tick. You never pictured your life becoming so pedantically focused on a cluster of pixels, but here you were, staring intensely at your phone.  
  
It had to be Markiplier, as much as it could be through social media. It wasn’t him in flesh and blood, but that would be weird, him just appearing out of thin air. No. It did mean that he had, somewhere across the globe, seen your name, clicked reply, and thought about you in some way.  
  
Your cheeks went red without hesitation and you made an unholy sound of excitement. And that was perfectly rational. This was a completely normal way to react, you repeated to yourself. Totally rational.  
  
You hadn’t laboured upon a follow in a long time. You were always excited that people followed you, but after two years of follows, it was hard to maintain the same level of enthusiasm. But this was a follow from someone you really admired.  
  
This feeling, weight in your stomach and butterflies in your chest, this felt similar to your first subscriber, one who didn’t know you, who wasn’t a friend of yours in real life. And then when you had hit your first hundred, your first thousand…  
  
But worse, because now there was a bonafide celebrity involved.  
  
_Be strong,_ you told yourself.  
  
You swiped across your phone to unlock it, only to have your thumb hover over the notification. You almost didn’t want to open it. What if it wasn’t what you hoped it was? What if he’d followed to politely tell you that no, you were not invited, and then after sending that message he unfollowed you? You swallowed hard, determined not to let yourself go down that path.  
  
Instead you opened the message, too excited to read properly. You skimmed the message, looking at his icon, his name, the longish message, then back again. After a hectic moment you focused, trying to downplay your nerves.  
  
“Hey! Sorry about the confusion there. Long story short, you had a business email listed on your YouTube channel. I’d been asked to organize other content creators for a project that YouTube is running. We needed people of varying channel exposure, varying audiences, and different locations - you matched! I meant to follow up that email when you didn’t reply. I don’t know if there’s still space though, seeing as the email went out a week ago and you didn’t show interest, but leave it with me.”  
  
Another message, directly underneath the first one, though admittedly shorter.  
  
“Also actual hi! Sorry for the lack of professionalism here, I’m stretched kinda thing with PAX, but that isn’t an excuse. Let me know. And sorry for the wall o’ text. I watched a few of your videos, you’re a funny lady. See yah around! Mark :)”  
  
Your phone slipped out of your hand and onto your bed. You had been pacing, but with that signoff, with that smiley face, you couldn’t sit in your computer chair. Instead, you laid on your bed, not sure what to feel.  
  
To begin with, Markiplier had followed you. Markiplier had also watched your videos, and said you were funny. Whether that was a genuine compliment or not was beyond you. You hadn’t expected him to ever see your channel, let alone watch your videos or think you were funny in any way. Next, there was the botched opportunity that you felt immensely ill about. You hadn’t replied because, yeah, it had seemed too good to be true.  
  
Mark had to understand that. You were a tiny content creator compared to people like himself, Felix, Jack, Bob, Wade, the Grumps, all of those people he associated with. You were a blip, a tiny detour on a larger road. How were you supposed to take an opportunity like that seriously?  
  
You fumbled your phone back into your hands, unsure what to say. You wanted to send back something, anything, but another part of you was terrified. You wanted to make a good first impression, but you were acting out of gut reflex.  
  
“Hello! I’m so sorry about the email! I get messages like that a lot, not a lot, but enough that when your email came through, I couldn’t believe it. I meant to reply, but yeah.” You read over this, eyes narrowed. No. You deleted the message, eyebrows furrowed.  
  
There was nothing in that message you liked. You sounded conceited, you sounded dismissive, you sounded like you didn’t even care. But you didn’t want to care too much, or too little, and life was increasing in complexity by the hour.  
  
Mark had followed you on Twitter, and had watched a video of yours. Maybe even more, given he did say videos… You had to wonder which videos he had watched, or if he was just saying that to be a nice person. That sounded more likely. And how had he even thought of you? Had someone mentioned you to him?  
  
You rolled your lips between your teeth before attempting another message.  
  
“Hey! Sorry for the delayed reply, I’ve also got PAX coming up and a move to LA, so it’s been hectic. I appreciate the offer to be involved in whatever the project is, and if there’s room, I’m happy to join on. If not, I understand! Next time? ;D” You smiled, feeling a cheeky level of pride in your confidence. You sent this message before you could second-guess it.  
  
“Also thanks for the follow. You’re a funny guy yourself!” You tossed your phone onto your bed to get some space, feeling confused by how boldly confident you had been.  
  
New life, new confidence, you supposed. You were moving, and you were sick of waiting for things to fall into your lap. You had worked hard every day to put content out, to speak with your fans, to meet other creators. A message from Markiplier wasn’t going to slow your roll.  
  
And then the dread set in. You frowned at your discarded phone, the wrinkles forming across your brow. There was lingering doubt about whether Mark would reply or not. Or, if he did reply, you knew it would be a polite acknowledgement at most.  
  
This train of thought did not suit you. You had work to do, and videos to edit, and you did not get to where you were by worrying about boys or opinions. You took to your computer chair, staring at the pixels that was Premiere’s progress bar.  
  
After a few hours of sliding clips around and superimposing images over the footage, you had four episodes ready to go. All you needed to do was render, again. You sighed through your nose. Once you had some money to spare, you would invest in a specific computer for rendering and editing. That would leave you beast of a computer free to play games on while you waited. For now, you had to lurk on your phone and read. Or, you would watch streams on Twitch.  
  
You flicked your Twitter open again, and there was a trail of favorites, another few follows, a few DMs and then Mark. You pretended (for your own sake) that you looked over all the notifications equally, but you did rush to see what he had written.  
  
“Understandable! I know how work can be before a con. You’re definitely welcome next time, but we can see about this time, too! I’m sure there’s room. You look tiny enough to squeeze into the group. :)”  
  
You stared pointedly at the screen. You were of perfectly average height. Was that a comment about your actual height, or your channel being small, or -- what was that implying? You thought of nothing but bad things, though you knew deep down he was probably just making a joke.  
  
“You’re one to talk, oh king of the short people.” And that was another message sent without thought. It occurred to you that mocking someone whom you were supposed to form a professional working relationship with, you were going to do yourself a disservice. But there was not much that could be done.  
  
He had started it.  
  
When no response came, you forced yourself to set your phone aside again. Normally you had no issue with leaving your phone, though you did read a lot on it. Checking Twitter became addictive and distracting, so you had to push it aside sometimes.  
  
And with PAX… Ugh. You had packed in a very loose sense for PAX, but there was the fact you had to fold things. And maybe also clean our your fridge before you went, because you were not going to come back to rotten food again. On top of that, you had to make sure your cat was settled at your friend Tanya’s apartment before you left.  
  
Although you still had two days before you went, you had to get Jinx settled in her new home, as you wouldn’t be able to take her with you. You were having your old roommate adopt the black and brown cat, as she had grown up alongside Tanya.  
  
You thought it would be best to leave Jinx with Tanya after you came back, as moving the cat too often would start to effect her mental health. It hurt to think about, but you wouldn’t be able to bring her with you to America. It wasn’t something you wanted to think about, but you had adopted her in a different frame of mind, You had never expected to move internationally, not in a million years.  
  
Now… You stared guiltily at the cat litter and food, the toys… You had a lot to take care of. You shrugged off your worries, knowing that it would be too difficult to get Jinx quarantined and through security. You took to picking up the toys, tossing them into a bag so you would transport them along with all the other supplies.  
  
A few hours later you heard your phone buzz. It was Tanya, letting you know she was coming over to help you clean. You had lived in this apartment for two years, and while you were not a messy person, there was a certain level of use that took to the tiles and carpet, no matter how careful you were. At least the task of cleaning would stop you from obsessively checking your phone. Mark hadn’t replied yet, but he hadn’t posted any tweets at all.  
  
You wouldn’t sit and watch your timeline like a loser, even if you felt very much like a loser.  
  
To begin with, you cleaned the bathroom from top to bottom. You would not ask Tanya to help you with your bathroom, seeing as it was probably the grossest area of your house. You scrubbed and rinsed and bleached it to pieces, until it looked good as new. It was so nice, you wished you had been bothered to keep it this clean all the time, but that was too much to ask. You liked things neat, but you could be a little lazy with your chores sometimes.  
  
But you figured all the cleaning you did now, before it got too close to your move, the better. You would be way too tired for intensive cleaning after PAX, and you’d also have to pack everything, too. Plus the obsessive cleaning gave you something to do while you got nervous about PAX (among other things). All that energy was going towards something productive.  
  
(And you tried to pretend you were okay with the fact Mark had not replied, but that was untrue. You were really quite worried at this point, unsure if you had overstepped a boundary. So far, no response, no tweets, no nothing.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments, the kudos and the support! I am mostly writing this on the way to and from work, so it's a fun stress reliever. I'm really excited to have them actually meet already, but I know for a fact it's funner this way. One day. Also really, having Twitter interactions with people you admire is downright stressful.


	4. withdrawn.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes opportunities fall through and people call you out for stuff that isn't even your fault.

You had to leave your phone in your bedroom, because you were getting nothing done. You queued up a few songs on your portable speakers and MP3 player, and you forced yourself to sever your ties with social media.

Because when would he reply?

Not that you cared.

But also… God. How could you not care? But you didn’t. But did you?

You were about to tear your hair out, between the stress of moving, of cleaning, of PAX, of this promised collaboration that you had zero details on. You forced yourself to blank your mind, trying not to get your hopes up too high. If they had filled in their numbers and you were going to miss out, well, there was next time.

You absently smiled, though you didn’t feel much like smiling. It was a kind of disappointment, spurred on by your own lack of confidence. Or maybe it was the cynicism, that you told yourself you could never work alongside Mark. You had never started this YouTube thing with aspirations for working with big name people like Mark, but you’d hoped - you had. It had been an idle dream, secreted away behind nonchalance. You would have given anything to work with those you admired, to be recognized as an equal.

And that had happened.

And you had fucked it up.

You winced at your internal monologue, denying the claim. How could you have known? You couldn’t have, really. Not unless you had taken the time to reply. But again, you received two or three emails a week like that. How were you to know it was real this time? Especially when you were still convinced it was a big joke, ready to crumble around you.

The dimmest thought surfaced, one you brought up when your own negativity got too much. What would Mark think, if he heard you saying all this to yourself? You grimaced, tight lipped and discouraged. He wouldn’t ever let someone speak to themselves the way you often slipped into, in the same way you encouraged all your viewers to be the best they could be.

And so you regrouped, refocused, and pushed forward. You took to the kitchen, determined to lose yourself to the chores at hand. Anything to tire yourself out, and anything to keep your mind from slipping back into negative thoughts.

By the time Tanya appeared, you were almost done with tending to the kitchen. Tanya had let herself in with a spare key to your apartment. You needed to get that key off her before she left. 

“Hey Tanya… Tanya.” You repeated her name, scolding her with your narrowed eyes. She was brandishing a bottle of wine in each hand, and you were already skeptical of her intentions. "What part of cleaning made you think we'd need wine?"

"It's for celebration." Tanya set the bottles on your kitchen counter, then proudly framed her hips with her hands. "For hitting five hundred thousand, and for when we finish cleaning... and the move." 

You gave Tanya a furtive smile. You'd lived together when you had left your last boyfriend and had needed to find somewhere fast. She had humored your interest in YouTube and even watched your videos at the start. You didn't know how much she would watch, but it was the thought that counted.

A few times she had played Minecraft with you, and some MMOS, but she was more artistically inclined. She had dark hair and eyes, and the slim figure you wished you possessed.

"I'm gonna miss you."

You wouldn't cry, but you felt like it. "I know. I'll miss you too."

And you really would. Tanya reached out to get a pair of plastic gloves, and you put the wine into the fridge. The conversation had been had. You were going, and people understood. Tanya had known for years that you had wanted to move to America. It had always been a matter of when, given your need for a greencard.

You were lucky. So lucky. You were working in producing lets plays and streaming, you were pursuing your passions, and your job afforded you enjoy money to pursue your move. You scrubbed harder at the tiles behind your stove, not wanting to show Tanya just how unstable you were feeling.

“Cleaning, then wine, then we can cry.” 

Tanya took to a pair of gloves, giving you a wary smile. You snapped at your rubber gloves, as if emphasising the point of your evening together. You could be quite practical when you wanted to be.

You had taken care of the cleaning of the kitchen in your nervous haste. You worked in amicable silence with Tanya, nervous words teetering on the edge of your lips. Tanya knew Markiplier, and you desperately wanted to share your newfound follower with her. But it felt like name dropping, or bragging, or both, and you couldn’t find a good place to bring it up.

Instead you worked on your kitchen, then the lounge, and then you began to work on those bottles of wine. Tanya polished off her bottle quickly, while you nursed it. You hadn’t bothered with glasses, not that you ever really did. Tanya had a glass, but you knew she’d go do the dishes as soon as you passed out.

Tanya was such an odd girl, sometimes.

You had started out by showing her a stupid video edited in an even stupider fashion, and the pair of you got lost in sharing dumb YouTube videos. It was one short clip after the next, with little discerable pattern aside from how much you were laughing.

“Oh, did you see, Mark’s Fuckboy’s playthrough? It’s… Oh, a vlog, I haven’t watch this yet. Hm?”

“Go for it.” You shrugged, at least happy it hadn’t been you that had loaded up the video. Tanya hummed and opened up a vlog, settling back against the couch. The title popped up, and your eyes widened. It mentioned PAX and the collaborations.

“Oh uh… Hey.”

“Yeah?” Tanya paused the video, looking to you.

“Actually, don’t worry. Just play the video.” You waved a hand, feeling unsure of what to say. That Markiplier had followed you, oh, no big deal? You hadn’t even processed it yourself. And, really, who would want to listen to you rant about Mark following you? Who would even know what it meant to you?

Probably Tanya, but you still couldn’t force the words out.

“Hey guys, how’s it going, just here to do a bit of uh, housekeeping. We are approaching con season as you all know, and I look forward to seeing those I can at PAX Prime. Please come say hi to me, but I will say, right now, right here, that I want to meet every single one of you, but I know I’m gonna miss people, and I know how much that sucks, but I love you all, everyone going, and everyone who can’t go.”

You sunk back against the couch, trying to pretend that didn’t affect you. You had been lucky enough to meet Mark last year, but it was so fleeting, such a light moment, that it felt a little more like a dream than a proper memory. Were it not for the photo of you with him, you wouldn’t believe it had happened at all.

“I will be doing a panel with Jack, and Bob, and Wade, and the times will be posted up for everyone to see at the convention…”

You glanced to Tanya who was smiling at Mark, and you tried to mirror that happiness. You were excited. You were so happy to be going to America, to PAX, but you felt… Lacking. Like you couldn’t shake your concern over the email, and that funk was not abating.

“... a few other creators, too, like Abalonia, TrekTech, uh, Cryoat, LunaLoops, these are all people I’m going to be meeting and chatting with about projects coming up, because being a YouTuber, how I’ve been doing it, is so… It’s not lonely. Lonely isn’t the right word. I don’t mind working on my own, but I just think more collaborations, more community, more communities meshing together, that’s going to bring up the morale, and bring people together. The more I speak to people like Jack, who came from my community, the more I realize how much potential there is out there.”

“LunaLoops.” Tanya echoed.

“I was going to tell you.”

“Did he say LunaLoops. But you're LunaLoops.”

“Yyy-yeah… yeah, he did, yeah, um.”

Tanya stayed silent, but she had a death grip on your arm. You couldn’t believe that he’d mentioned your channel, he’d said your channel name, he’d… He hadn’t revealed much of the project to you, but it sounded worthwhile. It also sounded like it included a lot of other YouTubers, people who were double or triple your size, and you couldn’t understand it.

Maybe you didn’t have to. Maybe you needed to shut your brain up and let this happen.

Mark paused, and started laughing. There was a jumpcut, but you could tell he had been looking at his phone. He smiled at the camera, eyes narrowed out at the audience -- at you. “Oh and uh, sidenote, LunaLoops, if you’re watching… We’ll see who’s short at PAX.”

And he smiled in such a way that it looked like he winked, and you felt as if your soul left your body. Tanya had gotten closer and closer to you, her arms wrapped around your waist. The video continued with details about PAX, and the upload schedule, and a few overacted jokes that made yourself and Tanya giggled, but once it rolled to other video suggestions, the questions begun.

“Mark asked you to collaborate with him?”

“I mean, yeah, kinda.”

“What the hell, why didn’t you tell me?”

“It happened like… Okay, last week, but I didn’t… I didn’t know. He also um, followed me on Twitter, and...” You explained the situation, from the email you hadn’t believed, to Mark’s tweets, and messages. The looks Tanya was giving you were downright infuriating, because she was already planning a wedding.

You could tell.

“And so he didn’t message you back?”

“What? I don’t know, I thought he didn’t, he didn’t reply so…”

“When did you last check?”

“Like…” You looked at the clock for the time. You had spent the past eight hours cleaning and drinking, and hadn’t checked your phone once. Oh god. You were going to drown. “I’ll go check now.”

“Yeah you will.”

“Calm down.” You hissed back to Tanya, who followed closely behind you.

You saw your phone flicking between different colors, each color indicating which social media had messages waiting for you. It went through different shades of green, blue, and red, and you almost didn’t want to check it. Tanya gave you a meaningful look, and you wondered what you would do without her when you moved to America.

You unlocked your phone and flicked open Twitter. There were a few thousand favorites, follows, messages, tagged photos, more things than you could check, but you sifted through it all to see what was relevant to you.

Not that your fans weren’t relevant, but -- 

“He replied.”

You fumbled with your phone as Tanya tried to grab it, but she hadn’t tried very hard. Instead, you opened up the message. Your vision blurred over it, seeing a longish message sent through. You took a deep breath before reading, your heart beating hard in your chest.

“At least I’m the king of being short, instead of just being a short person like you. Anyway, I got in contact with the Grumps, and they said they’re full. There was a five versus five thing they had planned, and spots got taken up real fast. It’s Grumps versus myself and a few other people, but we were considering doubling up the numbers, make it four teams instead of two teams.”

You were flattered Mark had taken the time to explain the situation to you, even if you couldn’t be involved. You were also a little upset that you weren’t involved. It was a mess of emotions. Tanya gently squeezed your elbow and you kept reading, as another message popped through.

“That said though, that’s an official project so restrictions apply. After PAX when you have time, I’d be happy to play something with you, if you’d want that. Seeing as you missed out on the official project because I sounded like a dumb spambot.”

“Also called you out in my vlog, the world needs to know how evil you really are. xoxo Mark :) ”

“Is that an xoxo.”

“That is an xoxo.” Tanya gently pat you on the shoulder, and there was silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the one hand I want to rush and skip to all the Reader and Mark stuff, but on the other hand, I really want to have a believable world. So I may just do dumb oneshots on the side to satiate my need for cute relationshippy stuff, and all the cut content I'm gonna end up with. ( I have about three different 'first meeting' moments written.) Feedback is appreciated, kudos is appreciated, and comments is amazing. Thank you all for the support!


	5. housekeeping.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you tell your viewers, or do you not?

You woke up with a deep ache in your body. All the cleaning from yesterday matched with the lingering alcohol in your muscles, you felt like a mess of regret. Tanya had crashed on your bed, while you had taken a mattress on the floor. You didn’t even know where the mattress had come from, likely an old boyfriend, or an old roommate. It was convenient, but not comfortable.

It was before the sun had come up, and you couldn’t sleep. You were tired, but you were too aware of each muscle in your limbs and torso. You rolled out from underneath the thin sheets, feeling toasty despite the cool weather. You hadn’t drunk all that much. You had barely finished your bottle, but it must’ve all bubbled away in your stomach.

The night had turned towards your newly found connection with Markiplier – Mark, you corrected. There was no sense in calling him by his username when you were speaking with him. Or maybe you should, seeing as he’d called you by your username in the video. Did he even know your real name? You didn’t linger on it. Luna was a nickname, like Sean was known as Jack. That said, if you were to meet him, you didn’t want to fawn over him with his name or celebrity status.

Nothing would be more of a turn off, you knew.

You didn’t want to linger on Mark, not now, because it felt too indulgent. You knew if you thought too much about it, or focused on every little detail, you’d lose your mind. You scratched your fingers through your hair, over your scalp, feeling keenly aware of how knotty it had become. You must have been tossing and turning all night for it to be in such a tangle. The kitchen was still clean, save for the glasses and plates that had served you last night. You drew out an egg and some orange juice. You were rarely awake this early, given you were a night owl, but PAX was only two days away, and you flew out tomorrow. You had been excited about PAX Prime since last year when you’d flown home.

Now… You wished you weren’t expecting anything. Part of you wished that Mark hadn’t replied to you, or called you out. Now you had these heavy expectations, this slowly building fantasy around when you’d meet, if you would hug, what would he say, would he remember you… Already, exactly what you feared was happening. You knew so much about Mark from your time watching him, and he likely knew your username. You flip flopped between feelings, denial and excitement, happy and scared, excited and terrified, all while cooking up the messiest scrambled eggs you could manage.

It occurred to you, you had yet to do a vlog of your own. You had told people you were going away, but you had spent all yesterday cleaning. You didn’t do daily vlogs, but you did put up a gaming video each day. Sometimes you did other videos, some singing, some art, some skits, but lets plays were your main content. You respected those that did full blown vlog channels, as you didn’t feel nearly interesting enough to talk about yourself on a daily basis online.

You kind of did, but lets plays were easier thanks to the games offering prompts and ideas for jokes.

You ate quickly and showered, to wash away all the ache and alcohol. Once dressed and somewhat okay looking, you slipped into your study. It was a second bedroom lined with soundproofing and piles of tech. There were old PC parts strewn about, and game cases, and more than a few figurines. One wall was peppered with fanart that you had received from conventions, as well as printed works. You smiled vaguely at the display, which was surrounded by soft fairy lights. You flicked the switch so they would light your background.

Your computer booted up from its hibernation state, with a few videos finished from rendering. You let out a sigh of relief, afraid they may have stopped somewhere between yesterday morning and today, but it had gone smoothly. You settled down into your computer chair, checking your makeup in a small mirror by the side of your monitor. You only did enough to bring out your eyes and smooth out your skin, though you sometimes forwent the makeup for some videos.

Do you mention it?

The collab?

You pressed your lips into a thin line, afraid of what to say. You decided to push it back, and instead went to check tumblr. Your dash was the same mix of cats, life hacks, dumb vines and childhood tv shows you were so used to, as well as a few YouTuber gifsets. There was even one of you, featured alongside Suzie from Game Grumps, and a few of the girls from Rooster Teeth. The tagline was a quote from Game of Thrones, and you reblogged it with a meek smile on your face.

You had never seen yourself doing this, sitting on tumblr, looking at your own face in an edited gifset with tags like ‘queen’ and ‘my wife tbh’. You shook your head before opening up your tag, with a few new posts in it. One was someone questioning who you were, given that Markiplier had called you out. Actually, a lot of these posts were about the shout out. Your stomach felt uncomfortably tight, and the stress rolled in again.

There were several posts expressing excitement on your behalf, with fans who were saying it was about time you worked with Markiplier. Another person was asking who you were, another was saying you were overrated, and then there was one of your face edited to look very unflattering. You could only laugh and scroll, your outward feelings a lot more calm than how you felt inside.

You were used to hate. You were used to naysayers. You could even deal with threats. It was all part of the turf of being an online content creator. And given that you had been noticed by an idol, you weren’t about to run with your tail between your legs.

Next was a routine check of your emails, of Twitter, and of Facebook. You had other stuff to check, but as it wasn’t strictly business related, it could wait. You also had YouTube comments to reply to, but you could do that once you set your vlog to render. You felt as though you had to think eight steps ahead at all times, with very little time to just chill out. You were your own boss, and you were working a dream job. How did this even count as a job?

In that moment you became aware of how much you were juggling, and how many more things had been thrown into the mix. Instead of a few balls to juggle, now there were chainsaws, batons, oodles more things that you couldn’t even explain. There was a metaphor there somewhere, but you couldn’t piece it together. Instead you scrolled absently through Twitter.

After a few tweets between yourself and MissCourse, who was doing an all-nighter it seemed, you were feeling ready to vlog. It was difficult to think that you would be speaking about Mark as if you knew him personally, when all you had exchanged as a few superficial direct messages, and one promise of a collaboration. But he thought you were funny. And he saw fit to mention you… How would it be rude to return the favour?

You opened up OBS, the program you used to record and stream. You flicked through your settings and tested a render, to make sure everything was running smoothly. After that quick ten second video of you making blah-blah sounds, you started up the recording.

“Hey everyone, LunaLoops here with the usual pre-con reminder that videos will be going up each day, same time, no changes there. They’ll be as consistent as YouTube lets them be, so don’t stress too much if they’re a little late.” You cleared your throat, feeling too professional for such a silly reassurance. “As some of you may already know, I am going to PAX, and I am doing a panel. It’s just a small one, with a few other international YouTubers, because we don’t know how much of an audience we’ll independently have – wow, do you like how I’m being all professional?”

Your nose wrinkled with mock disgust.

“And something I’ve been skirting around, uh, yeah, Mark… Markiplier,” You clarified, for those who may not realize who you meant (if those people even existed). “He emailed me about a separate project while I was in America for PAX, in Seattle, but I didn’t reply on time. My fault.” You added with a grimace. “But we’re talking, so who knows, maybe a collaboration is on the way.” You shrugged, not sure you wanted to reveal any further information. Since Mark had mentioned you in his vlog, it seemed only fair you be allowed to do the same.

“I’m not going to linger too much on it, because this is my channel, my content, and I never started this for any reason, but…” You threaded your fingers through your hair, pausing for longer than you meant to. “But there are a few people that yeah, I do look up to, and yeah, I am… I’m excited to see how Los Angeles goes, with the move, and the… The friends I’m making. Not that Mark is my friend – not after all the short jokes.” You added with mock upset. You also wanted to distance yourself from uncertain territory. Mark hadn’t expressed interest in becoming your best friend ever, but you felt…

You didn’t even want to clarify that with yourself.

“So PAX, panels, and a pink moustached nerd. That’s been my uh, my week. I also spent all yesterday cleaning. Cleaning. Me. God, it was awful.” You chuckled and moved on, discussing some day to day life moments with your viewers, though you knew they’d not see this till the afternoon. They would all know about Mark and his contact with you, and you were still left wondering how or why Mark had even noticed you to begin with. You hadn’t expected the attention, and you hadn’t angled for it, but it had happened, and you were still reeling.

“Until next time, Luna out.”

You never signed off with your real name. You didn’t hate it, but you didn’t love it either. It was so mundane to you, and it reminded you of your life before you’d taken to making content online. You loaded up the video to give it a cursory onceover. You weren’t going to edit it much, but you needed to make sure you hadn’t done anything dumb. It was no longer strange to watch yourself back. In fact, you time with YouTube and streaming had changed your approach to your appearance entirely. While before you were insecure about your teeth, your hair, your skin, you now looked at yourself with pride. You had worked hard over the past few years to improve your diet, and to exercise, and you weren’t a buff fitness guru, but you were happy.

On top of that, watching yourself day in, day out, you learned how to better do your hair and makeup. You still mucked up liquid eyeliner, but you weren’t perfect. You would learn to do it one day… That much you assured yourself.

Once the video was cropped down to the essential parts, with much of it left intact, you added some soft music and an outro.

Tomorrow you were flying out to PAX.

You snatched up your phone, heading to the kitchen. There was Tanya, groggily organizing herself a bowl of cereal and some juice. You smiled to yourself, tucking your phone away in your pocket. “Morning, sunshine.”  
“How are you awake? You’re never awake before me…” She yawned, eyes narrowed.

“Busy day, crazy nerves, and I had to vlog.” You explained with a shrug. “Couldn’t sleep anyway.”

You sat in silence with Tanya as she ate, trying not to linger on what you had said in your vlog, or on the impending time you were going to spend at PAX. It took all of your resolve not to send another message to Mark. You didn’t know what to say in response just yet, not to the ‘xoxo’.

You had to think of something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am hella sick, so apologies for any mistakes. Thank you everyone for the support and comments and kudos! Y'all have been so supportive and I really appreciate it.


	6. taxing.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At least you're in the right country now.

“Hey sorry for the late reply, flying internationally is a big time sink and stress.”

You sent this to Mark before you could second guess it.

“If there are spots available on the additional teams that might be cool! If not, no problem, I will be happy to watch. You have my email and I promise not to ignore you this time. I also called you out in my vlog, but I was much nicer.”

You paused, a devious smile on your lips.

“I’m always happy to promote smaller channels, so hopefully you’ll get some subscribers out of my shoutout. You are very welcome. ;)”

You grinned, teeth caught on your lip. It was easy to talk big on Twitter, but you were merely matching his sass. You were naturally inclined to send messages and match other's energy and you were outgoing. Sometimes you felt overwhelmed, and you sincerely appreciated your quiet time alone, but a few messages here and there were easy enough to follow up.

And now the panic set in. Not full blown panic, but just a sudden realisation that you were going to see him in a few days. You knew the tweets meant nothing, and the DMs were also nothing, and the vlog… But you pushed all that aside and hoped you would at least be able to speak with him for a few minutes before he was swamped.

The day leading up to your flight was filled with last minute checks, to make sure your bank knew you were going overseas, and to your landlord, and to a few developers you had promised to play the games of. Small things that were more about reaffirming plans than anything else.

All it did was distract you, until finally it was time.

It was close to three in the afternoon, and you were nervously jiggling in your lounge. You kept checking Twitter, but posted nothing. You just watched the tweets flood in of people departing and arriving, all on their way to PAX. All the names started to include PAX puns, and you were eager to get yours changed, too.

“Tickets? Passport? No that’s not our gate. No I don’t have anything to claim. Did you turn off your phone? I hope we get food soon -- ”

Alex had turned up with her mum, who was driving the pair of you to the airport. You chatted aimlessly in the car, and now you were trying to squish yourself into the compact plane seats. It felt like you had only just arrived to the airport, harried and worn from the sleepless night, and yet here you were. This was happening.

Alex grinned next to you under the lights, and you took a selfie to post when you landed.

“Please make sure you’ve fastened your seatbelts for take-off.

The plane began to taxi, tilt, lift, level, and finally soar.

You were off to PAX.

 

The thing about flying is you spend days, weeks, months worrying about it, planning it, paying for it, organizing transport, hotels, insurance, and it seems to take so long at the time, but as soon as you’re at the airport, it flashes by. The luggage, the people, the tags, the checkpoints, the hugs, the goodbyes, one ticket after another…

You and Alex chatted excitedly for the first few hours of flight, but then the lights dimmed and everyone began to drop off to sleep. You felt lucky with flights, with few loud children and a beautiful view outside the window.  
But your brain would not shut off.

You had made sure to post your vlog and set up a queue of videos. You were covered for the next week, with a few secret videos in reserve. People knew when it was an older video, but they didn’t mind. They usually understood, too.

Ah, but the vlog. The vlog had been met with mixed feelings. Some people were excited for you, for becoming friends with Mark. Others were offended that you had not replied to him, and oh, if Mark had emailed them, they would have replied instantly. You had rolled your eyes at those comments. If you had known…

And then there was the genuine hate, targeted at you clinging to Mark, using Mark, which was laughable. He had approached you, he had brought you up first, and he had expressed interest in working with you.

People were curious, understandably. And some people sought to bring you down because you were moving up. That was something you expected, but it felt a little arrogant to point out. It felt like a jealousy thing, and they were not going to win. You would try to be yourself, and put yourself out there, and that was all you could do. If you started trying to be someone else, that was when you lost.

You start to lose the whimsy of flying after the eight informational video about safety on planes. The video was the same one every time, and you could recite it on demand. They rotated them every couple of years, but for now, it was a rap. That’s all you could say about it.

The food was better than everyone made it out to be. The personal screens was a definite improvement, with music and shows and movies all at your own discretion. You could recall when you had to watch a stupid buddy cop film four times either way to America last time, and you did not relish the idea of doing it again.

No. The flight was… It was weird, if you were honest. You were cut off entirely from the online world, which to most people is an inconvenience. For you, it’s a nightmare. You are so used to checking things hourly, to letting people know where you are, to even posting your work online. You needed access to it, to keep your job. To be cut off from it all was stressful. And on top of that, you were forced to busy yourself for hours upon hours. And that left you brain dead, afraid to think about any one thing for too long.

Except maybe PAX, and the people you were excited to meet. There was a huge assortment of YouTubers who you had met before, and a new bunch that had started rising up in the ranks that you were excited to meet. Then there was Mark, and you tried not to think about it, because you wanted to expect nothing. He was busy, and you were a comparable nobody.

Even if he would begrudge you for thinking in those terms. He always emphasised how he is no better or worse for his purported fame, but it didn’t lessen the impact it had on your guts. That is, he vlogged about it. You were thinking and speaking about him like he was a close friend, an actual friend, and… And was he?

That was the other issue.

To claim he was your friend was risking an overstatement; to say he was not your friend could be seen as rude. You rubbed tiredly at your eyes with the palms of your hands, your head uncomfortably cradled against the back of your chair. You had the complementary blanket pinched between your chin and your chest, and your pillow had fallen to who knows where.

Beside you was Alex, who was wrapped up like Fort Knox. She wore a sleeping mask, a set of earplugs with her noise cancelling headphones over that, a scarf, a neck pillow, and her own blanket over the plane’s one. You narrowed your eyes, wondering if she was even there under all the layers.

The trip went by uncomfortably, uneventfully, but so, so slowly.

All until the lights flicked on and the pilot spoke again. It had been hours, and now it was light outside. You assumed it was morning, maybe afternoon, but you didn’t feel jetlagged. You had gotten used to going with the flow. No point is clinging to timezones and a body clock, especially when you slept at weird times anyway.

The pilot spat his jargon about waiting for the plane to stop, for tray tables to go away, all the usual stuff. Alex had since unravelled herself, seeing as you had scoffed down breakfast together, but she seemed worried. You quickly realized she was worried about you.

“You okay?”

“Yeah?” You vent air through your nose, as you always did. Laughter was too boisterous for such a small place, and you may never stop laughing if you started.

“Cool.” Alex gave a tight-lipped smile. “You don’t really get jittery.”

“Because this is me being totally collected right now.”

“That’s what I mean, you are nervous.” And she laughed, at your expense. “We do this all the time. How can you be worried?”

You stare pointedly out the window, arms clamped around your carry case for your laptop. You’d picked it for the colour, as it had stood out to you. It reminded you of your favourite season, and now you were distracted by the enamelled case. “I don’t know. I’m not worried.”

“Sure.”

“Okay, so, what if Mark hates me?” You broke, nerves running nasty lines all over your face.

“So what? No really, so what? We’re here for a convention. There’s gonna be so many people, so much to do, how is one person not liking you gonna affect your whole trip?”

“They’re a person I really admire, not someone random.” You defended, eyebrows furrowed.

“I don’t think you’d admire him if you thought they’d be asshole.”

You continue to tap patterns across the case, nervous fingers searching for some distraction. Normally you would be drawing or writing, but you had packed all that away. The lights above flicked off, showing that belts could be undone. You offer a weak smile, trying to stretch your back.

You knew, logically, that mark was unlikely to hate you. Hate was too much. It took time and effort to hate someone, as much as it took to love someone. It consumed all your actions and thoughts and deviated your path. It wasn’t hate you feared, it was indifference.

You welled with confidence, sure you would get along with them, and as equally, you would shrivel with fear. You held no expectations and would be disappointed still, or you expected nothing and ended up doing yourself a disservice.

The plane shuddered for a moment, the doors clicking and then freedom. A tart air welled through the doors, not the recycled plane air, but also not fresh. It smelled like the airport, burnt tires and engine grease, but only mildly.

You were all elbows as you climbed out of your seat, lips pursed over your teeth.

You had left two days for arriving and relaxing, which would be spent at the hotel and eating. You would also work out where the convention centre was, as it was all very foreign to you. You had been to many conventions in your country, and you had even been to a number of international conventions, but it didn’t stop you from worrying.

Worry, worry, worry.

The soft buzz of your phone kept you focused, as much as it was able to. You would check Twitter like clockwork, trying to discern whether or not there was a fan meet up occurring. A few people had announced theirs in advance, while Mark had kept his plans secretive. You didn’t blame him. He was one of the featured guests at this year’s PAX East, with several panels to worry about.

Not that you saw people as starkly contrasted as those who were famous and those who were fans. You knew everyone was their own person, with history, with achievements, with likes and dislikes, and you hated lumping people into groups. Mark would dislike it as much as you do, you imagined.

But, internally, it helped keep your head level and your eyes clear. You would write yourself off as just a fan, as a nobody, and then Mark would send you a winky face or a smiley or a silly emoticon, and you’d be done. And now you were wrapped up in your delusions again. All those silly tweets, the DMs, the vlogs… You knew it was nothing, but it had to be something…

Right?

“We’re this way.”

You followed Alex like a baby bird after its mother, so unsure of what to do in airports. You had your security form filled out, and you had your passport out, but every time you flew, you got so nervous. What if you forgot a piece of jewelry, or a random drug test showed something you’d passed by? You invented all this involved situations while standing in line, eyes wide.

The customs process was fast, given you travelled to America on a regular basis. You even had luck with your cases, which was rare. They always seemed to be last, but this time you spotted your case immediately. Alex grinned to you as she grabbed her own case, and you made your way to the information desk.

Your shuttle would be here in fifteen minutes.

Which meant some quality Wifi time.

Your notifications were lit up, with more emails and comments and favorites and… God. You felt bad complaining, because it wasn’t a problem in the least… It was just disappointing, because it would likely mean that you would miss peoples’ comments. You liked affording your fans attention, but if you spent your whole day on your phone, you’d never get anything done.

After a quick tweet saying you had arrived safely, you begun to dig through your emails for replies from professional contacts. Indie companies, hardware sponsorships, even information regarding special passes for those who had panels.

The primary agenda was to meet as many people as you could, and network. Network was such an ugly term, but you didn’t know a better one. You needed to meet people to collaborate, and to get your brand out there, but that wasn’t why you were drawn to Mark to begin with.

And drawn to Mark sounded so cliché. He was a nice guy, and he seemed genuinely lovely, and he shared a lot of common opinions with you, and if you could just show him… Your heart thumped against your ribcage. It always did that when you thought about just how scary it was to be making so many first impressions. You considered the after parties that would be happening, and hoped that Mark would be there, and what if he liked someone else?

This was exactly why you had to let this all go.

You had to be a professional.

You had to be poised.

You… You had a reply.

“The shuttle’s here.” Alex nudged you with her elbow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eventually Mark will ACTUALLY be in this story. ;) Anyway yeah I was busy the past month or so, sorry friends. This is the slowest fic I've ever written, I hope I can keep momentum. Also sorry this chapter was so... "tell" and not show? I just know how much airplane trips suck, and I figure the coming chapters will be more dialogue centric so I need to work at how I write Mark. Wish me luck!


	7. jet.

“I could sleep for the whole week.” 

“That’d be a waste of a trip, Loops.”

You narrowed your eyes at Alex, who was pawing through her case to find her towel. She had called dibs on the hotel shower, which meant you had to wait for her to get out before you could shower yourself. This was the worst part of the trip, aside from the hours leading up to your plane home.

You were so excited to be here, so happy to be in America, to be here for a convention, but you were exhausted. Travel was not at glamorous as it was in movies. You were gross, you felt gross, you had mismatched currencies, ballooned exchange rates, shuttles, passports, papers, timetables, connecting flights, it was a nightmare. Alex was the only thing that kept you on track, and without her, you would have ended up in Prague.

The flights blew by so quickly nowadays, with the inclusion of personal tablets on the plane, you had watched through two different shows. The shuttle had arrived a few minutes after you had collected your bags, and you hadn’t had to fight to sign in at the hotel. In all honesty, it felt like only a few minutes ago that you’d been getting into the taxi to the airport -- and now you were at the Hilton.

The only proof you had even been at the airport was a selfie a fan had taken with you, which showed off your dirty looking self. You winced at the sight of it, but you would have hated yourself if you turned away a fan for a photo on such a vain problem. They seemed over the moon to see you, and you couldn’t… You wouldn’t ever be able to cope with the love and attention given to you by your fans.

Now you had time to check your phone, you sifted through your notifications and squinted through emails. There was nothing too demanding of your attention. You had a message on Skype from your mum, saying that she hoped you had arrived safely.

And then there was the DM.

You guiltily snapped open the message, looking to the closed bathroom door. Alex was listening to some death metal and taking her sweet time, which left you nothing but time to deal with your back and forth with Mark.

“Thank you so much for the shout out, I appreciate it. I’m in a meeting right now, but I’ll get onto Arin about the thing. I’ve got you covered, m’lady. :)”

You smiled, almost painfully wide, your tired eyes barely taking in the message.

“I hope the meeting went well. Thank you for keeping me posted. ^^”

With time to kill and no food in the hotel room, you decided that maybe - just maybe - it would be a good idea to go get something to eat. You hadn’t eaten much of the breakfast from the plane, and you felt ready for a burger. America did massive burgers, and it was one of the few foods you preferred over here compared to home.

You called through the bathroom door to Alex, to let her know you were going next door for burgers. Because being on a plane for so long really did make you want to stretch your legs, you might as well go get food for the both of you. You were all nerves and no energy, but you definitely were not jetlagged. You felt like it was around midday, and it was just after two in the afternoon. You’d synced your internal clock fairly well, a talent you prided yourself on.

Before leaving you had the sense to change into clean clothes and add a touch of makeup to your features. Just in case. You'd been caught looking messy at the airport, but you owed it to people to try and maintain your look.

Not that makeup equated to professional, but that was an argument for a whole other time.

Once in the elevator you took to your purse, burrowing through old receipts and an array boarding pass.

You had your four botched customs forms. You had terrible, scrawly handwriting and you always joined your letters, and you kept writing the wrong dates. And you had to safely destroy the details on the forms… But for now, burgers.

“Five… ten… Ten should be enough…”

The elevator dinged, and you stepped forward towards the lobby. It was clearly con season as the foyer was packed with nerdy shirts and colorful hair. Internet people tended to have colored hair you noticed, which included yourself. You had dyed your hair your favorite color, which you'd had touched up for the convention.

For the first time in a long while, you really hoped people didn't recognize you. Which was so arrogant,you felt stupid. You glanced over the crowd to see a tightly knit group formed around one person. You just wanted a burger, and some quiet time after your flight.

It was surreal. Between all the heads, you saw a swath of pink hair. He was smiling and talking among his fans, only five or six people who were staying at the hotel, but then he saw you. There was was a beat, then he wiggled his eyebrow in a way you couldn't describe, and he was coming for you. He'd offered an apology to those he was leaving, but they understood. It seemed like they had been there a while chatting…

And then you met Mark’s eye, properly, wholly, his smile sliding from polite to genuine. You tried not to notice, and you tried not to care, but you had, and you did. You dipped your head in acknowledgement, your words failing you.

“If it isn’t lil’ LunaLoops!”

He weaved around the people, the cases, and then you were enclosed in a hug. You had been ready for the hug, and you knew how close cons could make people. It was an expected courtesy, and one you didn’t mind. So long as people didn’t linger and were clean, you were happy to hug them.

“Hey! I didn't realize you'd be here.”

The hug was severed, and you were separated by a few feet from Mark. You looked from his chest to his face to his arms and back, unsure where to focus. “That I am! Just landed, a few hours ago.” You didn't even get a chance to savor it. It enclosed you, warm and strong and whole and then it was gone. “I didn’t know you’d be here.” You smiled.

“Neither. I meant to ask where you'd be staying, not in a, ah, weird way? Just…” Mark’s hand lingered on your shoulder, only to draw back as he seemed to realise. It wasn’t awkward, but you noticed the -- flinch? “You look really nice.”

You were taken aback. “I really do not, but uh... “ You were unsure what to say back. “You also look nice?”

“Ooh, why thank you. I put a little extra floof into the ‘do.” Mark laughed, deep and good natured, and you were not ready for this. You hadn't even showered, you were starving, but you hadn't the time to complain.

“I assumed I wouldn't see you until the convention started! This is a happy little um, coincidence?”

“Same, totally, uh...” Mark smiled again before letting out a huff. “Oh crap, sorry for catching you out. Didn't mean to scare you, just… cons and hugs, I'm so used to hugging people.” Mark waved a hand between you, seemingly suddenly regretful.

“It happens! It’s good to see you though.” You assured him, surprised you were the one offering support. You had expected to be the one awkwardly bumbling along, but you’d kept your cool.

“Plus since the back and forth about a collaboration, I've been excited to meet you.”

“Actually, we met last year. I guess this is till right though, ‘cause last time wasn’t a, ah, proper meeting, I guess.” You quirked a brow, surprised at your own response. Was that rude? You felt rude. Crap.

Mark’s features dipped, as he clearly tried to place when you’d met. “I feel like I should remember this.”

“Maybe, maybe not? It was last PAX? It was a fan meetup. I wasn't a big YouTuber. I'm still not. Not that I'm saying I'm…” You trailed off. “I was excited to see you here, too! That's what I'm trying to say.”

Mark seemed a touch less excited, and you felt responsible. “Oh hey, I'm sorry, I must seem like a total douche right now. It's not that I don't remember fans, like, I do, but cons are a blur and - “ Mark seemed apologetic, almost crestfallen. “It’s not personal, trust me. Y’know how it is.”

“Don't be sorry.” Wow you had really succeeded here. You reached out to pat him on the shoulder, if a little hesitantly. He didn’t shy away, but he didn’t lean into it. You drew your hand back, smiling at him. “I just meant, you had met me. I wasn't trying to be like, ooh, how dare you forget. Meetups are hectic.”

Mark smiled back, seeming to shake whatever bad vibes had cropped up. “Noo, no, it's not you, just sucks when you meet someone and act like you've never met before and uh, y’have. Makes me seem like a douche. Because I meet so many people, and -- and that still makes me sound like a douche, huh.” Mark smiled, though you felt terrible. “Where were you off to, before I cut you off?”

“I'm going to get a burger, you wanna come?”

“Huh? Oh.” Mark smiled. “I’ve got to check in still, been swamped with people wanting photos and autographs.” He scratched his fingers over his scalp and through his hair. “Wait, no. That's not fair to you, making you wait for me when I was a total ass.”

“I'm not in a rush, and you haven’t been a total ass -- not yet. There’s a whole convention left.” You really hoped your joke came across, rather than bummed him out further.

“Okay, yeah, sure.” Mark smiled again, stepping towards the lobby counter. You crossed your arms and stood by the assortment of chairs. After a few minutes Mark came back over with his key card in hand. “I’ll be back in ten, promise. Just gonna dump this stuff, freshen up, then burgers. I can walk you through the collaborations I had in mind, if that's okay with you.”

You smiled to Mark and nodded, your heart pounding away in your chest. You watched him go to the elevator, only to take a seat yourself. The wait for him to get back was minute compared to your flight, and laughably little for what was to follow. You took to using the free Wi-Fi in the hotel lobby, thumbing through replies and your tag on Tumblr. There wasn’t a whole lot you hadn’t seen, but it was still fun to look through.

Old stuff, new stuff, it was amazing to see people creating things. The fact you’d inspired them was all the cooler, though you hoped your impact would extend past things for you, and become things for themselves.

You hoped that Alex wouldn’t mind your delay. You sent her a quick DM on Twitter and a message through Skype, just to ensure that she wouldn’t worry too much about your disappearance. Whether she would want to join you or not was up to her. She was probably going to pass out, if you knew her.

You had to wonder if Mark would return with friends to come get burgers. It seemed that Mark was alone, given he wasn't checking in with anyone else. His friends may have not arrived yet, or maybe they had their own rooms. You picked at your shirt sleeve as you waited, only to see a few people slowly gravitate towards you with phones out.

“Hi?” You offered, eyebrow raised. They seemed harmless, but you were sure they didn’t recognize you...

“Are you Markiplier’s friend?” A short boy asked, his shirt decorated with Portal references. “He ran over to talk to you…”

That was more like it. “Uh, yeah, I guess you could say that.”

The boy breathed sharply. “How?”

“How what?” You offered a puzzled smile. “I don't know. He saw my channel and emailed me. We talked and now we're gonna get burgers.”

“Oh, so you're another YouTuber.” A dark-haired girl piped in, as if satiated with that explanation. She peered around the group knowingly, and you discerned they were likely a group of friends. This assuredness annoyed you. As if someone who wasn’t a content creator being friends with Mark was unreasonable, or unheard of.

You narrowed your eyes, arms crossed. “Yeah, I am.”

The same girl hummed, eyes narrowed. “I don't recognize you. Sorry.”

“That's totally okay, I wasn’t expecting you to.” You laughed. “I'm a smaller channel, for sure.”

“So why did Mark contact you then? Why not Jack and Wade and Bob? He has friends.”

You shrugged uncomfortably, getting up from the chair you’d taken to. “I actually don’t know that. I do videos, art, singing, some games, it’s a mix… Maybe through a friend, or…” You nervously sighed. “We were just about to go to lunch to discuss all that, so uh, I guess I’ll find out.”

“Where are you going for lunch?”

“Hey guys, I appreciate you all keeping Luna company, but we gotta jet.” Mark slid in, smiling broadly. “We have a booking at a place, not really enough seats though. Sorry.” He set a hand on your upper arm to get you moving towards the lobby doors. No real force, but enough to imply haste.

“Sorry guys! Thanks though. See you at the convention.”

“Sorry.” You had almost missed this, as Mark mumbled it between his teeth, still smiling.

Once you were outside and down the street, the pace slowed. Neither of you were local, but you trusted Mark enough to follow him. “There’s a quiet place around this corner, a few blocks. If you’re okay to walk?”

“Sure, but um…” Your head twitched towards Mark, taking in the locked features, the tight stance. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just, sorry about them grilling you. I would have asked you to come up to my room, but in front of people, it might’ve… I dunno. Didn’t want to -- “ Mark let out a sound of frustration. “Do you ever just wish for a few minutes you could be anonymous? Just for a little bit? Normally, outside of conventions, things are fine. I rarely get recognised. But you come to town for a convention and it’s a minefield of making sure you’re saying the right things, treating everyone right, because you gotta, because you care…”

You stared at Mark, hands dug deep into your pockets. “Chill, it’s okay.”

Mark went quiet, shoulders tensed, eyes turned downward. He stayed quiet for a few minutes, and the tension slowly melted away. You didn’t mind the silence. It was nice, and it gave you time to adjust. You were walking with Mark, next to him, and you were going to lunch, and he’d… Well, he’d just dropped his figurative guts.

“I wasn’t trying to complain. I just felt bad, seeing them grill you about your channel. It sucks because there’s that whole ‘worth’ thing associated to other YouTubers. Numbers don’t mean shit, not to me. If you’re genuine, funny, and passionate, that’s what counts.”

“And… That’s why you picked me?”

“Oh yeah. I haven’t told you why I emailed you.” Mark offered a smile, doing a slight jog to make sure he was the one to open the door for you. “I’ll tell you over the burgers. My treat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! This was a huge chapter, and I hope that with time, I can add some softness and legitimacy to the friendship/relationship between the reader and Mark. This may seem a little coincidental, but I can tell you, cons lead to some interesting situations.
> 
> Also, the fans are NOT intended to be creepy, or trying to be creepy. This is based off experiences I have had happen/seen happen to others, in varying venues. This includes conventions, music festivals and art galleries. People can just be very careless and pointed with their questions and assumptions, and the reader is already self-conscious about her budding friendship with Mark.


	8. careers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Rocks up late with Starbucks._
> 
> Prepare for a helluva lot of Mark.

The menu was laid out on an old chalkboard, or it was designed to look old. All of the places here had that aged, kitschy edge to them, and the city itself smelled like old baked goods. Maybe it was just you. You were glad you had touched up your makeup, as there were so many people out on the streets. This was Seattle, and you only came here for the conventions, but you’d be here -- in a few weeks.

You were going to move to Los Angeles, and you were going to live here. In this country.

There was a queue, but it was short. It wound the length of the store, with little two and three seaters, all barrels and treated wood countertops. There were those weird drink fountains with the free refills, and the insanely huge condiment dispensers and...

Oh, and there was Mark.

Mark was in the midst of several signatures and photos. The people behind him had either come in with the intent to meet him, or lucked out. You were happy to watch, a vague smile as he chatted with them. Nothing particular stood out, just the trill of how much they appreciated him, and his work, and how much he helped them.

It wasn’t rude to think that, either. You got it yourself at conventions, and you saw your friends experience it. He seemed genuinely invested in their words, and eager to match their energy, but in time he shot you a few apologetic smiles. You shook your head, happy to have some time to process the fact you were about to have lunch with Mark-a-freakin’-plier.

From a personal standpoint, it was nerve wracking because you had expected to meet him at the convention. You had expected it to be with a number of friends, and other content creators. You hadn’t, and didn’t, expect the smiles that he sent your way, or how he seemed eager to return to your conversation.

From a career standpoint, it was also nerve wracking because you were going to collaborate with a channel infinitely wider than your own, and that wasn’t something to scoff at. You never approached individuals with the assumption they could benefit you, but you were always open to collaborators.

Normally it spawned out of friendships, and occasionally a fan would reach out on behalf of another channel, but this had been Mark’s idea. Or, you thought it was Mark’s idea.

You didn’t know.

You also didn’t know what burger you wanted.

“I’d recommend a cheeseburger, if you’re not sure.”

You turned, and Mark was at your side. He’d set a hand against your elbow to warn you he was there, and you allowed the touch to linger. He sent a smile your way and let the hand drop to his hip as he surveyed the menu. There was about eight kinds of everything, and everything had jalapeños and weird cheeses and -- 

“Yeah, I’ll be getting that for sure.”

Mark grinned, only to let his expression furrow as he looked over the menu himself. His tongue poked between his lips just so as he focused upwards, his arms firmly crossed in front of him. You tried to ignore the very defined muscles, and failed, and he seemed to notice. Or he didn’t, as he didn’t mention it.

“I’m gonna get the Baconado.”

“Because it sounds like Sharknado?”

“No! Maybe. No.” Mark laughed again, his tongue caught between his teeth. “I just feel like a buncha bacon, and I’m a growin’ boy! Got a whole convention full of people and… Shut up, I want bacon.”

You nodded knowingly, happy with your choice. It wasn’t a cheeseburger, but it sounded nice all the same. It reminded you strongly of a meal you used to get, back at home. A phrase you would soon be accustomed to, given how soon you’d be saying that. The thought slowed you down enough for Mark to insist himself between yourself and the cashier, card out.

“I got it. No, no, it’s fine.”

You had started to protest, but he seemed certain. You looked to the cashier, Judy, who only seemed bored by the exchange. You relented, not interested in any sort of argument over the matter. “I could have paid.”

“Yeah, you paid to fly over here, you did enough.” Mark cast your way, a smile on his lips. He saw through the transaction, and snatched up the number from the table. From there you slid with your paper cups to the drinks fountain, where he got himself a water and you got yourself whatever sounded the nicest.

Mark sighed through his nose, arms crossed once again. “This is so weird. I’m used to meeting friends from overseas, it’s kinda part of this whole -- whole YouTube thing, but it’s just… I guess, I haven’t really… Ah, spoken with you? Not unless you count Twitter.”

You froze, worried. Oh.

“I do! I’m not…” Mark let out another laugh, nervous, and you couldn’t pick out why. He was so loud normally, and you had to remind yourself that you had always seen him in a public capacity. This was very much personal, and one-on-one. “I keep sounding like a jackass, wow.”

“Mark, shut up, you’re fine. You’ve been talking to people left and right, and I’m… I’m just a person?” You said this with an edge of confusion, not sure why you of all people had to say this.

“It’s not like that.” Mark gave you a warm smile, and looked as the food was called out. He jumped forward from the counter, to pick up the tray. He jutted his chin to a nearby table, grin still in place. The table was a proper booth, tucked in the furthest back corner. He sat with his face towards the back of the store, while you had a full view of the restaurant.

“Okay, so this is yours -- not even competition for Baconado.”

“Not all of us need a whole pig on a burger.”

Mark dipped his head, feigned upset in place. “It’s not a whole pig.”

You smiled again, sure that would be your expression for the whole weekend. 

“Wait!”

Okay, so your smile lasted two seconds. You stared Mark down with wide eyes and a borderline heart problem, given how loudly he’d snapped. He had his phone out, and you frowned between your food and him. “Really?”

Mark grinned, the flash of his canines framed by the scruff of his facial hair. He was giddily bouncing in his seat, as if he wasn’t an adult man at all.

You watched as he slid out of the booth, to come sit next to you. His thigh hit yours, and you had to scoot in so he would fit. He held the camera up, and took a series of snaps. Each varied in expression, a tongue out, a dumb face, a genuine smile, and one he had feigned a kiss against your cheek.

“Gotta keep that reputation of ladykiller.”

“I thought you were the king of squirrels and short people?”   


“Which makes you my subject.” He smiled absently as he scrolled through the photos, to show you each. You watched over his shoulder, and pointed to the one you liked best. Once he was satisfied with the tweet he scooted back to his side of the booth.

“Okay, so, you were saying, about why you picked me for…” You trailed off as you took up a few fries, as something to fill the gap.

“Yeah! Yeah. So, YouTube as a platform, we’re… I mean, they’re looking to spread out the demographic, y’know. A lotta Americans, guys, so, they handed me a list of YouTubers on the uptrend. People they thought I’d work well with. They don’t do it often, but it’s kinda how I met Jack. Like, people have mentioned you to me before, but it’s… I don’t get a chance to watch a lot of people, outside of the Game Grumps and y’know, close friends. Even then, I miss a lot of their stuff, too. I try though! I had a crazy year… Crazy couple of years, actually.”

You nodded, not sure what you expected as a story. “Well, I knew about you a few years back, I… I used to watch your stuff, and figured, why not?”

Mark was set into his burger, as he fought through a rasher of bacon. It was all crisped and beyond fried, but he seemed happy with it. “I did watch your videos though.” He clarified this, as an afterthought. “I went through the list, watched a bunch of the popular uploads, vlogs, tried to get a feel for who people were.”

You were tucked into your own food, eyes focused on the space between you.

If Mark wanted to say anything further, he didn’t. Instead he chomped on the burger, and focused on the tabletop the same way. You wanted to check your phone, to tweet out that you were at lunch with Mark, but you couldn’t. And even then, you didn’t want to seem like you were name dropping. It was a weird balance to strike.

“It’s so weird.”

You narrowed your eyes at Mark, confused.

“Just, people -- like, watching my stuff, making their own. The whole thing.” Mark seemed wistful, and you weren’t sure what to say in return. “It’s weird, but like, good weird. Still screws me up, that this is my job. And that cool people like yourself -- that you’re here, because of that. Y’know?”

“What did you think you’d be doing when you were older?”

“Not this.” Mark vented air through his nose, lips turned up in a smile. “Definitely not this… You?”

“I wanted to be a tomb raider, until uh, I realized it’s not like what Lara Croft did.” You snagged another fry, to dip it in some sauce. “I wanted to be a lot of things. Lawyer, doctor, fireman… Woman. Whatever the word is.”

“Fire  _ person _ .” Mark corrected, his hands running against the grain of his stubble. “I dunno. I wanted to be an engineer, and I still love it, but uh…” He made another sound, between amusement and frustration. “Don’t know if I have the time.”

“Don’t say that.”

Mark shot you an apologetic look, but he didn’t voice an apology. He’d had too many near-death experiences, between his surgeries, and his father’s passing, that you didn’t feel comfortable in saying everything was going to be fine.

You had accepted your own mortality, too, but only inasmuch as working harder each day towards your goals. You shared that trait with Mark, but he was far more focused. Even with his bubbly, outward attitude and goofball reputation, he was an exceptionally serious man when it came to his career.

“I wanted to be an artist.” You admitted this downward to the table more than Mark, shy smile in place.

“Yeah, I know you draw. You did a few pieces for me, back when you were starting out. LunaLoops… That was you, right?” Mark’s voice was unusually small when he admitted this. For someone so loud, he could manage quieter moments, in a way that always surprised you. Maybe you would adjust to this quieter, more pensive Mark in time. It likely meant he was growing more comfortable around him.

“You remember that?”

“Of course. I don’t remember all the art, but I try to, and yours was… It was pretty cool.”

You gave Mark a warm smile, even though you tried to disguise it. You had drawn plenty of things for your friends and fans, and were always happy to hear requests. And you did not begrudge people for asking you to draw things, unless they made it a demand. Ideas were fine, suggestions were fine too, but demands were a sure way to get on your bad side.

“Okay, so, burgers gotten…” Mark paused, hands framed on the table. “Right. Arin said there isn’t enough room for you on the official tournament-thing. But, uh, there’s kinda something else I wanted to ask you to come to, if you wanted to.”

“Yeah?” You had finished your meal, and were near done with your drink.

“It’s not an official YouTube thing, but we had some complications with another guest for a mini-event thing, it’s like Cards Against Humanity with Jack, Wade and I. The other person had to pull out ‘cause family issues, so we were gonna have to… Like, ask, someone, and since I screwed up and you missed out, I wanted to offer it to you. It doesn’t clash with your events, and I sorta organized it as a surprise. Which… When I say surprise, I mean this all went down like yesterday, and I had to say a name off the top of my head.”

“And you thought of me?”

Mark shot you a smile of feigned cockiness, a lush wink to match. “Always.” This broke quickly enough with a laugh, and he crossed his arms on the tabletop. “No, but seriously, I owed you, and it’ll be fun.”

You had a panel on what it was like to be an international YouTuber, and the struggles therein, but otherwise your weekend was made up of signings and an emphasis on networking. Or, meeting people, because networking often made people think of the selfish kind.

You smiled between the last of your drink and Mark, who was busy threading his fingers through brightly coloured hair. The sides were shaved which left the top long, and you were admittedly curious about what it felt like.

“Okay, I’ll do it.”


End file.
